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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948386">(don't) answer the phone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzywhiz/pseuds/dizzywhiz'>dizzywhiz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A little sprinkle of smut for good measure, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, NYADA!Klaine, Pranks and Practical Jokes, endearing awkwardness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:55:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzywhiz/pseuds/dizzywhiz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt gets pranked. At first, it drives him to nearly the brink of insanity, but as it turns out...</p><p>It might actually have been good for him. And for his crush, too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(don't) answer the phone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>phew!</p><p>hello! my friends from college and I were talking about how people used to pull this exact prank at the music building at our college - I won't elaborate for spoiler purposes - and I thought to myself...klaine au?</p><p>it was meant to be just a short little funny thing, but it took a turn, and then it took another turn, and in the end it turned into almost 6.5k of ??? what exactly? who knows. something fun, I hope. (the title is a total cop out but we'll ignore her &lt;3)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kurt makes it a point to not answer phone calls from unknown numbers, with two exceptions.</p><p>He answers calls with Lima area codes, god forbid it’s a hospital or anyone trying to get in contact with him about his dad, and he answers calls with New York City area codes, in the event he’s being offered an audition or work opportunity.</p><p>So far, neither instance has happened, but he wouldn’t let himself miss either, good or bad. </p><p>Every other call, though, he ignores. He figures if it’s something important, the caller will leave a message, and if it’s someone he actually wants to talk to, they would’ve just texted him in the first place - because really, who makes phone calls these days?</p><p>Not many people, typically. It’s been more or less a nonissue for him. His phone will buzz, he’ll glance at the screen, silence it, then move on, and if there’s a voicemail, he’ll check it later.</p><p>And then it starts.</p><p>At first, he doesn’t think anything of it. His phone starts vibrating in his bag during class, and he reaches blindly into the pocket to sneak a look at the screen, then silences it. No big deal - it’s a robocall, or it’s spam, or maybe something to do with work. He’ll get it later.</p><p>When it happens four more times that hour alone, Kurt starts to get suspicious. Worried. Concerned. Annoyed.</p><p>Confused.</p><p>The feelings only strengthen, a whirlwind mix that threatens his hands to tremble, when he finally gets out of class, pulls out his phone, and finds that every single call is from a different number, and every single one has left a voicemail.</p><p>Queuing up the first message quickly, Kurt presses his phone to his ear, only to be greeted with a series of botched noises reminiscent of a dying animal, followed by laughter, and that’s it.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>He pulls up the next, and it’s the same. The third - much more committed to the sound effects, but the same. By the fourth, he’s nearly seething.</p><p>If this is what he thinks it is, these four messages are only the beginning.</p><p>Shoving down the hallway, Kurt makes a beeline for the building’s entrance, right to the bulletin boards, and - yep.</p><p>Tacky posters adorned with Chewbacca’s face and convenient pull tabs lining the bottom with Kurt’s phone number, everywhere. It’s a stupid, classic prank amongst NYADA students, one he’s never thought was funny or played into, though he’s heard horror stories about the victims’ phones blowing up for hours, for <em> days. </em> Post up your friend’s phone number all over the building, tell people to call and leave a message with their best Chewbacca impression, then sit back and watch them dissolve into insanity - ha ha fucking <em> ha. </em></p><p>Part of him wants to tear down every single flyer, wants to run around the building and make it a mission to get rid of every <em> goddamn </em>one of them, but there’s no time. If he wants to nip this in the bud, he has to go straight to the source - so he settles for one, yanking it off its tack with a vengeance.</p><p>And he knows. He knows <em> exactly </em>who did this.</p><hr/><p>“What the <em> hell, </em>Santana?”</p><p>The heavy sliding door to their loft makes it difficult to storm in, but Kurt makes up for the logistics with his anger. He’s had a full commute to get thoroughly pissed off, and each of the five phone calls he received on the way only made things worse.</p><p>And Santana’s just <em> sitting </em> there like she’s been <em> waiting </em>for him, lounging back on the couch like she’s never done a single thing wrong in her life. </p><p><em> God, </em>he could wring her neck.</p><p>“What even <em> is </em> this?” Kurt fumes instead, marching right up to where she sits on the couch, waving the poster at her. “What were you <em> thinking? </em> Did you think I would <em> enjoy </em>this? Think it’s funny? Are you hoping this is the last straw to push me over the edge so- so you can take my bedroom or something? I mean-”</p><p>“I just thought you needed some excitement in your life,” Santana explains casually, inspecting her manicure. She’s completely unfazed by his outburst, by the way he’s shoved the flyer into her face, and it only irritates him more, nearly makes his blood boil. “I mean seriously, Kurt, all you do is go to class and go to work. You’re in <em> New York! </em>Shouldn’t you be - I don’t know - living out your big gay porno dreams?”</p><p>“What- Who says I’m not?” </p><p>He’s totally not.</p><p>“Me. <em> I </em>says you’re not. Because you always end up here, tucked in your little beddy bed at an obnoxiously reasonable hour, every single night. And trust me - I would know if you had someone in there with you. You never have, and if you don’t start spicing things up, you never will.”</p><p>Maybe she’s right. Maybe he isn’t putting himself out there, and maybe he isn’t getting laid or making it past lackluster first dates, and maybe he’s spending more time at the library than he truly needs to. Maybe that’s all true.</p><p>But-</p><p>“I don’t see how having my phone blown up with <em> Chewbacca impressions </em>has anything to do with that.”</p><p>“It doesn’t,” Santana shrugs. “But consider this a wakeup call. I mean, I knew you were high strung, but <em> this?” </em> She gestures vaguely in his direction, still not sparing him a glance. “This is worse than I thought. Some dick would do you good, my friend. Whichever way you choose to go about it - I won’t make assumptions. I’m feeling nice today.”</p><p>Yeah. Real nice of her to violate his privacy and his peace and quiet by plastering up his phone number everywhere for a bunch of dramatic, attention-seeking actors with no self control or boundaries to find and take advantage of.</p><p>But nonetheless, Kurt deflates, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t want her to have a point, but there’s a small chance he’s overreacting.</p><p>A very, very small chance.</p><p>“Why are you so invested in my love life, Santana?” he wants to know after a series of mindful, deep breaths, rubbing his temples to work out the beginnings of a tension headache.</p><p>She finally looks up at him then, an eyebrow raised, a twinkle in her eye.</p><p>“Oh, you sweet little thing. When did I ever say anything about love?”</p><hr/><p>Kurt is actually doing fine in the love department, thank you very little.</p><p>In fact, he has his first crush on an actually verified gay man, one who he also knows is single to boot.</p><p>One he actually may have a chance with, if the way they steal little looks at each other during their coincidentally-synced study periods in the library is any indication. And yes, Kurt knows Blaine notices him, too. It isn’t that his eyes are playing tricks on him, and it isn’t wishful thinking, either.</p><p>He knows, based on the way Blaine offers him a tiny smile sometimes when they meet eyes, ducks his head bashfully others. He knows, based on the way Blaine’s voice seems to have just a hint of softness when he speaks to Kurt, a little more gentle, a little kinder than when Kurt hears him talking with any of their classmates. He knows, based on the way Blaine gets sort of stuttery and awkward around him when he’s so smooth and charismatic around everyone else - and especially onstage.</p><p>He knows. </p><p>He isn’t reading into things - not this time.</p><p>And Kurt knows, too, that he acts the exact same way. He knows he blushes, and he smiles, and he revels in the smoothness of Blaine’s voice, and he stutters and stammers more than usual, but it’s just hard not to.</p><p>Something about Blaine reduces Kurt into a silly schoolboy, doe-eyed and fumbling and forgetting every acting skill he’s ever learned from any lesson, and he can’t bring himself to care.</p><p>Because at least it seems to be mutual.</p><p>Today is no different. Kurt is hunkered over his textbooks at his usual spot by the window, his phone powered off and shoved deep into his messenger bag so he can actually attempt to <em> focus </em> for the first time in days. As usual, Blaine arrives about an hour later, quickly commandeering a table near the middle of the study area, seemingly neck-deep in homework of his own. He’s facing the window, though, so when he looks up, Kurt can <em> feel </em>his eyes, privately hoping it’s a gaze just for him, at least some of the time.</p><p>And Blaine looks up a lot - which means Kurt isn’t focusing after all, but it <em> also </em> means there’s lots of smiles and blushes and <em> moments, </em> and <em> that </em>is a distraction Kurt is more than willing to take.</p><p>Of course he knows it’s silly. They’re both grown, adult men, both gay, both single, and there’s no reason why Kurt can’t walk up to Blaine and ask him out and settle things once and for all.</p><p>But on the other side of things, why hasn’t <em> Blaine </em>done exactly that?</p><p>It’s a stalemate, a precursor to a game of cat and mouse where they’re each stuck waiting for the other to step up and <em> be the cat, </em>leaving them at a quiet, juvenile standstill in the meantime. </p><p>Kurt has faith, though, that it’ll happen when it happens.</p><p>Finally, Blaine gathers his things, organizes his papers and books neatly in his bag, and gets up to pull on his jacket, headed out for the evening. They’ve been doing this dance of glances and bit-back smiles for a couple hours now, and when they lock eyes again as Blaine ties his scarf, Kurt figures enough is enough.</p><p>So he offers a small wave, more a coy wiggle of his fingers than anything else, which Blaine responds to by - walking over to him.</p><p>Blaine is <em> walking over, </em>something he’s never done before, something Kurt’s never done before either, and maybe it’s happening now.</p><p>Maybe today is different after all.</p><p>“Hi, Kurt,” Blaine greets quietly once he reaches his table, courteous of his surroundings as always, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “Working on the readings for stage combat?”</p><p>“I don’t think I’ve processed a single word,” Kurt groans, leaning back in his chair to look up at Blaine. A breath catches in his throat at the sight of him close up - he’s all bundled up to go back out into the unseasonably cold autumn weather, his scarf a rich maroon color neatly tied and tucked into his peacoat, his hair beginning to curl at the sides after a long day. </p><p>He looks completely, devastatingly, unfairly adorable, and Kurt really, <em> really </em>wants to kiss him.</p><p>“I-I was having a hard time myself,” Blaine admits, cocking his head over to the table where he’d been working. “I guess I figured that class would be more...physical than anything else.”</p><p>“Ugh, I’d rather get physical all day than try to muddle through <em> this.” </em> Kurt pokes pitifully at his textbook, then quickly blanches, face heating with a mortified blush as he realizes what he just said, what it sounded like, <em> who </em>he said it to.</p><p>Oh god. </p><p>“I mean-”</p><p>“I know what you meant,” Blaine grins, ducking his head in a failed attempt to hide his laugh, not that Kurt minds it - he’s the type of person whose happiness is effortless, and it makes his laugh infectious, even when Kurt is more or less the brunt of it. “Actually, I was thinking, um. Maybe it would be easier if we worked on it together?”</p><p>Quickly, the flush on Kurt’s cheeks shifts from embarrassment to sheer giddiness at even the idea of spending time with Blaine, even just working on homework. He knows this isn’t a date, and this isn’t Blaine asking him out, but it’s <em> something, </em>something Kurt so desperately wants, but he can’t come on too strong, not when it’s taken them this long to get this far.</p><p>He tries to play it cool.</p><p>“Yeah? You think so?”</p><p>“Yeah, just… I-If you're interested. At least for me, uh. Things like that tend to go better with somebody else, you know?”</p><p>Oh - <em> that </em>sounds like an innuendo, too, Kurt quickly realizes, but Blaine is looking at him so nervously, so earnestly, having put himself out on a limb to even suggest it, and so Kurt won’t call it out, wouldn’t be able to stand himself if he embarrassed him.</p><p>“I’m interested,” he settles on saying, giving Blaine what he hopes is a sweet smile. “You look like you’re on your way out, but we can set something up?”</p><p>His words seemingly spur Blaine into motion - he visibly jolts, pushing up one sleeve of his jacket to check the time on his wristwatch.</p><p>“Shoot- Yeah, I really need to get going, um-” Blaine scrambles for a moment, patting his jacket and back pockets before pulling out his phone, tapping the screen impatiently. “Could I, uh, get your number, maybe? I’ll text you, and we can...yeah.”</p><p>“Of course,” Kurt says breathlessly, days of annoyances and frustrations and everything else forgotten. </p><p>Because <em> Blaine </em> is about to have Kurt’s <em> phone number, </em> and Blaine is going to <em> text </em>him.</p><p>It’s happening.</p><hr/><p>Naturally, it doesn’t take Kurt long to remember what he’s been so annoyed about.</p><p>In fact, he remembers as soon as he gets home and turns his phone back on, already hoping to hear from Blaine, allowing himself to lean into his eagerness in the privacy of his own bedroom. He’s met with over a dozen missed calls from the few hours he’d been in the library, voicemail after voicemail of more of the same. </p><p>And it’s been <em> days. </em>He found the posters Monday, and now it’s Thursday evening, and there’s no end in sight.</p><p>Kurt doesn’t understand <em> why </em> the calls are still coming in - NYADA isn’t <em> that </em>big of a school, and he didn’t remember seeing as many of the flyers up in the halls today, and he’d like to think Santana has at least enough decency not to post them up outside of the music building.</p><p>But who knows.</p><p>There’s nothing from Blaine, though, and there isn’t anything from him all day Friday, either. In fact, they don’t even see each other - they don’t share any classes on Fridays, and Kurt hasn’t stooped quite low enough to study in the library on a Friday night. </p><p>If he goes straight home to put on yoga pants and watch reality TV with a pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream instead, that’s his business.</p><p>He deserves the ice cream, though. The calls were less today, but he still got a few, and they’re still grating on his last nerve. And he’s starting to question, too, if Blaine is going to reach out to him. It’s been a mere 24 hours, but after they made so much <em> progress </em>there in the library, Kurt had hoped the momentum would carry them through, even to seeing each other over the weekend, if he were lucky.</p><p>He isn’t lucky, though, and he feels Blaine’s absence tenfold, as pitiful as he knows it is.</p><p>He’s allowed to be pitiful sometimes.</p><p>But on Saturday morning, when Kurt is woken up to the sound of his phone vibrating insistently on his bedside table for the third morning in a row, it’s the final straw.</p><p>No more self pity - he’s tired, and he’s over this, and he <em> isn’t </em>going to put up with it anymore.</p><p>And so he reaches for his phone, and for the first time since all of this started, he answers.</p><p>“Can you <em> please </em> just leave me alone?!” Kurt snaps, unwilling to give the caller even a second to start their inevitably horrific noises. “I don’t want to hear it, alright? I’m sick of this- this constant <em> harassment- </em> that’s what it is, you know that? Harassment. It’s not cute, and it’s not funny, so <em> stop.” </em></p><p>There’s silence.</p><p>Kurt has half a mind to hang up, but he wants to hear an apology. He <em> wants </em> it, some tiny semblance of empathy and <em> justice </em>and acknowledgement that he is a real human being - a real human being that doesn’t give a single shit about Star Wars, at that. But the silence goes on for so long that he realizes the caller probably already hung up, and he still has his phone pressed to his ear with a white-knuckled grip, and he feels a little foolish for it.</p><p>When he pulls his phone back to look at the screen, though, the call is still active.</p><p>He shoves it back against his ear.</p><p>“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself? Or is mouth-breathing into the speaker the next step of this whole thing?” </p><p>“I… I’m so sorry, Kurt, I- You gave me your number, so I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I won’t bother you again, I promise.”</p><p>The person’s voice sounds so <em> dejected, </em> so shaken and uncertain, and apparently Kurt <em> gave </em>this person his number, but the only new person he’s gotten to know recently is-</p><p>Oh no. No, no, no.</p><p>Kurt’s sleep-addled brain clears just enough to put the pieces together, and he realizes.</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>“Wait- <em> Blaine?”  </em></p><p>“Um. Yes?” Blaine peeps, sounding more tentative than Kurt’s ever heard him. </p><p>He hates himself for it, for making Blaine have to respond that way. He hates himself for losing his temper so easily, for showing Blaine the ugliest side of him and making Blaine the brunt of it, at that.</p><p>He hates himself for blowing it, whatever could have been possible between them, before it even had a chance to really begin.</p><p>Because there’s no way he <em> hasn’t </em>blown it. There’s no conceivable way.</p><p>“Oh god. Oh god, I am <em> so </em> sorry,” Kurt says quickly, rushing to explain, to hopefully somehow undo the blow of the awful, horrible words he said, knowing it all must’ve <em> sounded </em> so much worse, considering. “These- I’ve been getting these stupid prank calls all week from this <em> stupid </em>flyer my roommate decided to put up everywhere, and I just figured you were… I’m- I’m just really sorry.”</p><p>Not that being sorry matters. He still hurt Blaine’s feelings, still <em> attacked </em>him, still accused him of harassment and practically of stalking, too. </p><p>“Those are still bothering you? I-I went around and took them all down the other day, but maybe I missed a few.”</p><p>It’s probably the last possible response Kurt could have expected, throwing him entirely, abruptly silencing the destructive spiral of his mind, only one thing remaining. </p><p>“You...took them down?”</p><p>“Yeah, I did. I, uh, my roommate Sam brought one home and wanted us to call, but, I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that funny, so I left him to it, but his phone was on speaker, and when I heard the voicemail recording, I realized it was you, and… Anyways. I felt bad, I guess.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Blaine doesn’t think the prank is funny. Blaine had gone out of his way to try to take down every flyer, something <em> Kurt </em> hadn’t even gotten around to doing yet. And not only that, but Blaine did it when he realized it was <em> Kurt’s </em>number - not just because he’s an all-around nice guy.</p><p>Because it was affecting <em> Kurt. </em></p><p>And maybe Blaine doesn’t even hate him now, either.</p><p>And maybe Kurt’s fallen for him that much harder.</p><p>His feelings aren’t important right now, though. What’s important is really, truly making it up to Blaine and <em> thanking </em>him, too - and not just with words.</p><p>Blaine deserves more than that. He deserves the world, as far as Kurt’s concerned.</p><p>“Can I buy you a coffee? Please?” he asks, wanting to start small. “As an apology for nearly biting your head off?”</p><p>“I… Yes. I’d really like that.”</p><p>Kurt draws in a deep breath, and he bites the bullet.</p><p>“How’s right now?”</p><hr/><p>In the end, <em> right now </em>means a little over an hour later. </p><p>Kurt had just woken up when Blaine called, after all, and he needed the time to properly get ready, to look his very best. </p><p>He has to <em> be </em> his very best, actually, now that he’s accidentally more or less rubbed Blaine’s face in his absolute worst. And even after, Blaine is still willing to go for coffee with him, to talk to him, to <em> care </em>about him, because if he went through the trouble of taking all the posters down, he must-</p><p>No.</p><p>It isn’t fair for Kurt to get his hopes up, or to read into it, or to <em> assume. </em></p><p>Maybe all Blaine wants to do is tell him off in person. Maybe Blaine wants Kurt to buy him a coffee just so he can take it and throw it in his face. Maybe Blaine wants to sit down and have coffee and lure Kurt into a false sense of security, only to do an enthusiastic and full-throttle Chewbacca impression right <em> at </em>him-</p><p>No.</p><p>None of that is fair, either.</p><p>So in hopes of not entirely losing his mind, Kurt makes sure to dress in an outfit that makes him feel handsome and confident and even a little sexy, and he heads out the door before he can think twice about it, down a few blocks to the coffee shop Blaine had suggested.</p><p>As it turns out, he doesn’t have time to work himself up waiting for Blaine, either - Blaine’s already there, leaning back against the brick wall of the building, face lighting up when he sees Kurt. </p><p>Like nothing ever happened. </p><p>“Hi, Kurt,” he says happily, righting himself up on his feet and shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. “How are you?”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Blaine,” Kurt blurts out in lieu of a greeting, feeling completely undeserving of Blaine’s politeness, of his smile. “Seriously, I… I’m really, really embarrassed about how I acted, and I-I didn’t mean a word of it about <em> you, </em>of course, if I had known-“</p><p>“Hey, hey,” Blaine cuts in, reaching out and touching Kurt’s elbow, as if to keep him from launching entirely. “I understand. I really do. I mean- That was...<em> terrifying, </em>I won’t lie to you, but once I knew what was going on…” He shrugs, drawing his hand back. “I knew it wasn’t personal, and I can't say I blame you for being so over the whole thing. So no more apologies, okay?”</p><p>Kurt eyes him carefully for a moment, feeling even more unworthy of his kindness and pure understanding. But he feels his heart lift from Blaine’s touch, even through his coat, and from the sweet honey of Blaine’s eyes, incredibly, dangerously captivating and convincing. </p><p>“No more apologies,” he agrees with a sharp nod, taking a deep breath before opening the cafe’s door, letting them inside for their coffees. </p><p>Funnily enough, talking to Blaine feels incredibly natural once they get past the apologies and the nerves. Halfway into his mocha, Kurt feels settled into his seat across from Blaine, talking about school, their classmates, music, and anything else that comes up along the way. Their conversation twists and turns long after their cups are empty, like they’d never run out of things to say. </p><p>Kurt’s always had a feeling this is how things would be with Blaine, if they worked up the nerve to find out. </p><p>All things considering, he’s grateful. </p><p>But there’s still one thing he wants to know. </p><p>“Why, um. Why did you do that for me?” is what he asks, while fidgeting with the sleeve around his coffee cup. His nerves are back right away - talking to Blaine has been so easy, sipping their coffees and enjoying one another, but when it comes back to this, to <em> them, </em>it’s like Kurt’s mind and his heart are thrust right back to the start, bumbling and unsure of himself.</p><p>“I… I told you why,” Blaine says, a non-answer that seems to be out of shyness, not defensiveness. He averts his gaze, looking over Kurt’s shoulder and to the barista stand, the tips of his ears coloring a dark red. “I just...knew it must be annoying. I felt bad.”</p><p>Oddly enough, the fact that Blaine is nervous, too, fills Kurt with a sense of confidence he’s never possessed around Blaine before. He isn’t sure why, but Blaine’s clear avoidance of the true answer just makes Kurt want it more, want <em> him </em>more.</p><p>And maybe that’s strange, but considering Blaine’s gotten them this far - asking for Kurt’s number, calling, having his back when nobody else did - it’s Kurt’s turn, anyways.</p><p>“That’s the only reason?” he prompts quietly, resting his elbow on the table to prop his chin up in his hand. He looks at Blaine across the table with a sweet, coy smile, biting his lip briefly when they lock eyes to keep it from widening.</p><p>Blaine is completely adorable when he’s flustered, like he is now - cheeks growing more flushed, eyes flitting all across Kurt’s face, all melted gold in their gaze.</p><p>“It’s… No, it’s not,” Blaine admits in a rush of an exhale. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, then allows his hand to fall limp against the table, shaking his head a little. “I… I think you know the real reason, but, um. I’m not… I’m not very good at all this.”</p><p>Kurt gets it. He knows they’re in the exact same boat, two players in this game they both want to win, though they aren’t sure how. He knows why Blaine helped him out, knows why Blaine forgave him so easily. It’s exactly why Kurt is sitting here across from him, wanting to make him smile, wanting to make him <em> happy. </em></p><p>In a moment of daring, he reaches across the table and folds his hand gently over Blaine’s where it rests between them, giving it a squeeze, brushing his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles. </p><p>“Do you want to get out of here?” he offers suddenly, unsure of what’s gotten into himself, though he asks all the same. </p><p>It sounds loaded, and he knows it, but by the slight lift of Blaine’s eyebrows, by the barely perceptible darkening of his eyes, he has a feeling it isn’t completely off the mark, maybe not at all.</p><p>And so he stands by it, implications and all.</p><hr/><p>They’re quiet as they walk down the street, headed towards Kurt’s apartment without a word of discussion about it. </p><p>It feels different between them now - like a switch has flipped, causing the energy to buzz and to crackle, sparking with electricity every time their hands brush between them, every time their eyes lock amidst stolen glances. </p><p>Kurt doesn’t have any expectations for this. He has immediate hopes, of course, an innate desire to kiss Blaine, for one, something that isn’t new but stronger now than ever before. At the very least, he hopes that some privacy in his apartment, which he knows for a fact is empty, thanks to Rachel’s and Santana’s weekend day shifts at the diner, will result in some more easy, relaxed conversation, something he already has a feeling he won’t ever be able to get enough of with Blaine.</p><p>He wants to talk about what’s going on between them, too. He wants to make his intentions clear, show Blaine the genuine parts of him that aren’t so heated and irrational, give them a chance to lay a foundation to build something <em> good </em>upon.</p><p>It isn’t until they get to Kurt’s apartment, until he unlocks the door and leads Blaine inside, sliding it closed behind them, that Kurt realizes they might not need words at all. Maybe they need to lean into their feelings, need to <em> explore </em> them together instead of trying so hard to work up the nerve to figure out how to <em> say </em>them.</p><p>Maybe this will work better.</p><p>When he turns to truly face Blaine for the first time since they left the coffee shop, there’s a certainty in Blaine’s eyes now, a sureness that makes a breath hitch in Kurt’s chest, and he knows.</p><p>He knows he’s right.</p><p>They reach for each other at the same time, Blaine’s hands coming to cup Kurt’s face, fingers slightly cold from their walk, Kurt’s coming to hold Blaine’s waist, pulling him in, pulling him close, and they’re kissing.</p><p>It’s soft at first, tentative, searching. It’s all new - not just in that this is the first kiss they’ve shared, but in the way this overwhelmingly feels like a new iteration of themselves entirely, of them <em> together. </em>The Kurt of a few days ago, sneaking glances at Blaine in the library, never would have done this, and that Blaine wouldn’t have, either.</p><p>But as convoluted as it seems, their tragic, mortifying phone call may have been exactly what broke down the barriers between them, just what they needed to really approach this, <em> try </em> this, reach for each other and hold each other and <em> kiss </em>each other, more insistently by the moment, full of want, close to need.</p><p>And there’s no room, no space, no breath for shyness anymore.</p><p>Kurt doesn’t realize he’s backing Blaine up against the door until they land there, Blaine’s back hitting lightly with a soft noise from the back of his throat, almost a whimper. He nearly pulls back to apologize for his directness, for his presumptuousness, but Blaine threads his fingers into Kurt’s hair, holding him closer, as if he anticipates it, as if he can read Kurt’s mind.</p><p>So instead, Kurt works at unbuttoning Blaine’s peacoat, untying his scarf, kissing him all the while. He’s suddenly aching to <em> feel </em>Blaine, to touch him in more ways than hands, lips, tongues, to learn the warmth of his skin and of Blaine’s hands on his, too. His lips trail from Blaine’s and along his jawline, down his neck, pausing to suck and nip gently near his Adam’s apple. </p><p>It isn’t until Blaine’s head falls back against the door with a low thud and a trembled moan that Kurt snaps out of it, pulls back enough to check in, to make sure.</p><p>“Is this-”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Blaine breathes shakily, eyes dark and nearly wild as they flutter open, so intense that it makes Kurt’s knees threaten to buckle. “Please, I… <em> God, </em>I’ve wanted this, I just didn’t know how…”</p><p>“I know,” Kurt reassures him, his own voice trembling with the weight of the realization that this is happening, <em> this is happening. </em>“I know. Me too.”</p><p>But the moment is frozen now - he can’t stop <em> looking </em>at Blaine, can’t tear his eyes away. Whatever had gotten into them when they came inside fueled them this far, but now they’re here, and their bodies are pressed together, still separated by too many layers of clothing and of coats, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths.</p><p>And Kurt has no idea what to do next.</p><p>“Maybe we can, um- move from the door?” Blaine suggests with a quirk of a half-smile, and it’s perfect. It’s exactly what Kurt needed, what <em> they </em>needed, enough to diffuse the awkwardness and uncertainty, replacing it with peals of giddy, high laughter.</p><p>“Yeah,” Kurt grins, rocking in to kiss Blaine one more time, lingering there, sucking Blaine’s bottom lip gently into his mouth before pulling away slowly, swallowing another laugh as Blaine tries to chase his lips, searching for another kiss.</p><p>Not yet.</p><p>Instead, Kurt tugs him by the hand to his bedroom, pulling the partition curtains closed, and it’s real, now.</p><p>Blaine is in his bedroom, with the intention to kiss and to-</p><p>Well.</p><p>It doesn’t really matter what, exactly. What matters is that they’re here because they both <em> want </em> each other, to some incredible, cosmic degree. What matters is that Blaine is finally shedding his coat and his scarf and his shoes - oh - and his cardigan, too, leaving only his undershirt behind, tucked into his perfectly fitted jeans. What matters is that Blaine is <em> watching </em>as Kurt does the same, his eyes heavy and gaze slow, raking, as Kurt pulls off his own coat, his sweater, matching in the same level of undress.</p><p>What matters is the way they come together again, falling onto the bed and into a tangle of limbs, as if they can’t fight the pull anymore. Blaine lands on his back, dark hair nestled beautifully in contrast to the light blue of Kurt’s sheets and his pillows, and Kurt comes to rest on top of him, between his legs, close enough for their noses to brush.</p><p>They grin at each other for a moment, a wordless <em> here we are, you and me, finally, already, now. </em></p><p>And then they’re kissing again.</p><p>It’s hotter than before, deeper, almost dirtier. It’s like the bed and the shedded layers of clothes have granted the permission for <em> more, </em>for hands slipping under their shirts, palms heavy and fingers skating on bare skin, for hips to slot together, for soft moans and pleased noises from both of them, for more teeth nipping at lips and grazing against skin, for more intensity in all of it.</p><p>And <em> god, </em> Kurt had no idea it would feel this good. He never could have known how kissing Blaine would positively set him on fire, how the feeling of Blaine’s body underneath his own makes heat coil in his belly, how he can’t truly believe how much he <em> wants, </em> how quickly he’s been reduced to what feels like an innate animalistic desire, how he can’t even bring himself to <em> care. </em></p><p>It’s incredible, all of it. <em> Blaine </em>is incredible, in the sounds he makes and in the way he kisses, in how his hands feel under Kurt’s shirt, and yeah, it’s turning Kurt on.</p><p>Of course it is.</p><p>But he <em> feels </em> that Blaine is turned on, too, feels the length of him hard in his jeans, slotted up right against Kurt where he’s hard, too, perfect, so <em> good. </em>It leaves Kurt powerless to do anything but give himself over to it, rocking his hips down into Blaine’s, pleasure sparking through every inch of him in every bit of the friction, feeling like he could crawl right out of his skin, even just like this.</p><p>And Blaine is meeting him in every bit of it - rutting his hips up as well, linking his ankles over Kurt’s calves for leverage, eliciting moans straight from the back of his throat that Kurt wants to <em> memorize, </em>kisses grown sloppier, without any sort of finesse. </p><p>It isn’t long before Kurt pulls away from their kissing entirely, in favor of burying his face in Blaine’s neck, reduced to panting and unable to focus on anything but what’s building between them, <em> in </em> them, deep in the pit of his belly, tightening, driving him, more, more, so <em> close. </em></p><p>He shakily reaches for Blaine’s hand, like a lifeline, threading their fingers together and holding on tight, coming to press up beside Blaine’s hand as they move together. The grip is slippery, inconsistent, their palms sweaty like the rest of them. Kurt can feel it beading, dampening his temples and at the nape of his neck, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s too far gone, too fucking close to think of anything but Blaine, Blaine, <em> Blaine, </em>and then Blaine lets go beneath him.</p><p>Blaine lets go, and it's with a broken moan of Kurt’s name, neck bared as he throws his head back into the pillows, arching his back as he rides it out, trembling, and it’s enough for Kurt, too.</p><p>It pushes Kurt over the edge, hips stuttering as he comes, fingers of his free hand working into Blaine’s curls, grasping, desperate for something to ground him. His orgasm wracks his body, coursing through the entirety of him, unrelenting in its intensity, unlike any he’s ever had before, and if he’s feeling <em> this </em> when they’re still more or less clothed, truly haven’t even <em> touched </em>each other-</p><p>He can’t believe they waited so long.</p><p>But, as it is, it’s perfect. As Kurt comes down from it, he musters enough strength to push himself off of Blaine in favor of flopping onto his back beside him, letting out a shocked, happy laugh.</p><p>“Wow,” he manages, rendered incoherent, speechless. There aren’t any words for it, for what they’ve just shared, but it doesn’t matter.</p><p>“Wow indeed,” Blaine echoes with a chuckle of his own, rubbing a hand over his face. He wastes no time rolling onto his side, curling up into Kurt like they’ve done this a hundred times before, and it makes Kurt grin like a shameless idiot, pulling him in closer.</p><p>This is more than he could have asked for, more than he could have expected, wanted, even hoped for. </p><p>But there’s something he wants to make sure Blaine knows.</p><p>“I… I really didn’t mean to bring you here for this,” he murmurs sheepishly, bringing his hand up to run his fingers slowly through Blaine’s hair. “I don’t… This isn’t like- a <em> thing </em> that I do.” </p><p>Ever, really, but Blaine doesn’t need to know that.</p><p>“I don’t, either,” Blaine admits, raising up on his elbow to peck Kurt’s lips reassuringly before laying back down again. “But after all these weeks of...whatever we’ve been doing… Maybe it needed to happen this way.” He shrugs, pressing a sweet kiss to the crook of Kurt’s neck before settling there, curls brushing Kurt’s jawline in an achingly soft motion. “All at once, you know?”</p><p>“All at once,” Kurt echoes, voice barely above a whisper, and somehow, it makes sense.</p><p>It’s been a lot at once, at least.</p><p>He isn’t nervous anymore, isn’t afraid of Blaine or of talking to him. He isn’t afraid to reach out and thread their fingers together, to kiss his forehead or his cheek or even his mouth. All at once, it feels like there’s a whole world of possibilities open to them now, things to discover about one another and things to discover <em> together, </em>things to try and to experience and to learn. </p><p>Plus, just laying here with Blaine, with the boy he’s had a crush on since he first laid eyes on him, tangled up together, a little sweaty, more than a little disheveled, Kurt feels satiated and <em> relaxed </em>in a way he’s never been able to achieve on his own, as if nothing could bother him, nothing could get to him at all.</p><p>Maybe he <em> had </em>needed a wakeup call, something to get his head out of his own ass and make him realize how much he’d been missing out on by truly not confronting anything at all, be it things he wants or things he can’t stand.</p><p>Maybe Santana had been right.</p><p>Not that he’ll ever admit it.</p>
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